I Bring The Fire
by WatchUsFall
Summary: Alianne is a demon, just trying to make her way (preferably NOT in Hell) and avoid the Apocalypse. But of course, then Team Free Will gets involved, and everything gets a hell of a lot more complicated (no pun intended). Involves Destiel, an unknown pairing between Alianne and someone - you can decide, if you review - and a lot of sarcasm. Rated T for the occasional swear word.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey there again! I've been working on this for a while, and it's my first multi-chapter story on this site! *does a little jig* I'm not sure what pairing it will be yet - send in any suggestions, I'll happily take them into account. I've already written the first three chapters, so (because I have no patience whatsoever) I'll post all three today. It's set in season 4, I'll give a more specific time when I have one, sorry. There will be Destiel in this story (because omg OTP OTP) but it will not be the main focus. Please review, and - ENJOY! **

* * *

I was making a rather marvelous deal - if I do say so myself - when the brats decided to summon me. Just about to go in for the kiss and then... The familiar tug at my navel, followed with the world going black around me until I reappeared in some shabby barn, smack-bang in the middle of a Devil's Trap. Stupid, annoying, inconvenient things.  
I made a show of looking about my surroundings, but instead studied them. The Winchester brothers, Sam and Dean.  
I remembered Dean. His soul had been one of few I had taken a liking (well, respect) to in Hell. In fact, I was about to take him off Alastair's hands when he was pulled up by the definitely-not-angelic-in-any-way angels of Heaven.  
Sam... I would have to watch Sam.  
"Well, it's certainly a pleasure to be summoned by Hell's Lost Boys, but I was about to make a rather spectacular deal with a rather spectacular woman, so this had better be good." I drawled in greeting. They glared. Oh, how predictable. "And was the Devil's Trap really necessary?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.  
"Yeah, about that. You've got quite the reputation as Hell's slimiest bitch, so we weren't taking any chances." Dean replied.  
"Hmm." I considered them for a moment. Was that _all _they had heard of me? "I prefer Alianne. Anyway. Are we getting down to business? Because I'm really not fond of small talk, though I would like to know how your angel is doing. I would have thought you'd have called him by now. Or," I paused, smirking. "Maybe little Dean-o just loves being rescued by his angelic sweetheart?"  
Dean gave a sarcastic laugh. "Very funny." I smirked again. "I know."  
Sam stepped in. "We want information." I rolled my head to the side to look at him. "Do you now? Information on what? Actually, no." I held up a hand. "I'm not standing through story time. I want a chair." "Would you like to be tied to it?" Dean asked sarcastically. I wiggled my eyebrows. "Ooh, kinky. Does Cassy like it when you do that?"  
Dean growled at me. I laughed. "Touchy."

Sam put a hand on his brother's shoulder to calm him. It seemed to work, if only slightly, and I bit back an amused smile.

"Anyway, if that's a 'no' to the chair," I sat cross legged on the concrete and grinned up at them. "Let's start. What do you want to know?"

Sam looked confused at my agreeing attitude, but asked, "The word is that you're one of Hell's most valuable demons, but no one seems to want to say why."

I chuckled. "Ah. Sure it's not just 'cause of my charming personality?"

Dean snorted. "I don't think 'charming' is the word you're looking for there. Why are you so," he made air quotes, "Valuable."

I put on a mock shocked face. "You're just going to ask and not torture?" I sighed dramatically. "Two men after my own heart."

"If you have one." Dean quipped.

"Touché."

"Either you tell us, or we send you screaming back to Hell." Sam threatened. I wiggled my eyebrows again, at him this time.

"Oh Sam if you wanted to make me scream I can think of many more enjoyable ways. And you're into demon chicks anyway, right?" He glared at me. I chuckled again.

"Look, I'll tell you why I'm so special on one condition."

"You really think you're in any position to be making conditions?" Sam raised his brows disbelievingly.

"It's not a big one!" I protested. "I'll tell you, so long as you summon sweet Castiel."

Both Winchesters looked confused. "Why?" They asked together. I stared in shock and then giggled. "You actually do that?"

Dean rolled his eyes and Sam sighed. "Why?" The younger Winchester asked.

"I have a message for him." I said, smiling.

"What message?" Dean demanded.

"Uh uh uh." I waved my finger at him. "That would be telling." Another glare. Pfft, Winchesters. So predictable.

"Your dad was like that too, with the whole glare thing." I mentioned conversationally.

Both brother's eyes widened - it really was too amusing how in sync they could be - and Sam stepped forward slightly. "You knew our dad?"

I nodded. "Oh yeah. Man, John could be a douche sometimes." Dean glared at me.

"That's our father you're talking about!" I rolled my eyes.

"Yes, did you think I had forgotten? Very stubborn too - like you." I inclined my head to the elder Winchester. "Forty years in Hell?" I whistled. "Impressive."

"You were in Hell while I was there?" Dean asked, trying to restrain the curiosity in his voice. I nodded.

"Oh yeah. In fact, I was about to order Alastair to let me have you - we would have had a lot more fun, I assure you."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "You can order Alastair?"

"Well, I_ could_. He's sort of dead now." I sighed. "I'm tiring of this conversation. Just call your angel, so I can give him the message, so you can have your info, so I can leave. I have other business to attend to."

"Why should we call him? We could just exorcise you right now if you don't give us the information."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, and then have no way of getting the information until I crawl back out. Look, just call the angel, okay? Everything will be so much easier."

They glared at me, before Dean reluctantly turned to call the angel...  
And smacked right into tan overcoat. He stumbled back, while Castiel watched him. If I didn't know better I would say he was amused as he reached out and caught Dean from falling.

Oh they are SO in love.

I didn't know whether to snicker, squeal, faint or laugh. I may have done a small combination of all four. What? They're adorable!

Dean had flushed, Sam was holding back laughter, and Castiel was just looking at Dean, head tilted in a way even I had to admit was adorable.

And then Dean caught sight of me, and consequently, my barely suppressed, inhuman noises, and the moment was broken.

Castiel turned to me, returning his hands to his sides. I smirked at him.

"Hey, angel."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two!**

* * *

Castiel didn't reply to my greeting. I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Well that's rude."

Silence reigned while I smirked, the angel simply glaring.

"Just say what you need to say, it's really not that hard!" Dean burst out.

I turned to him with a chuckle. "Says the one who can't seem to admit his feelings for a certain angel-in-shining-armour."

Dean flushed with a growl, and Castiel turned to him, cocking his head.

"Which angel is this?" He asked. I could hear the tinge of jealousy, but apparently Dean couldn't, as his cheeks just got even redder and he stuttered, "No one, Cas, she's just making stuff up. Let's just get what we need from her and go." The angel didn't seem to believe him – fair enough, Winchesters were _horrible_ liars – but he turned back to me nonetheless.

"Why did you wish to see me?" He asked stonily. I rolled my eyes.

"Don't give a girl a smile then." I muttered, before speaking normally. "It's a short message, don't worry, just three words. Three words, a future-seeing friend of mine thought you might like to hear."

"You have friends?" Dean snorted disbelievingly. No, I am not five. Yes, I did stick my tongue out at him for his comment. Shut up.

"What three words?" Sam got us back on track and I lifted my head, staring directly into Castiel's borrowed eyes.

"Ingentibus ardent cadentum."

Castiel's face hardened even more than it already was – seriously, is this guy made of concrete or something? – And he shook his head.

"That's impossible."

"Is it?" I raised an eyebrow. "It's coming, angel, whether you like it or not."

"That will not happen." He insisted.

"Uh, what's going on? What did that mean?" Dean shifted towards his angel slightly, the movement so small I wondered if he even knew he was doing it.

_'Oh, these boys will be fun.'_ I thought, amused.

Castiel didn't turn to look at him, but answered with only slight hesitation.

"It is Enochian. It means 'they burn as they fall'."

"Who burns?" Sam asked, his brow furrowed.

They seemed to have forgotten I was there – well, that just wouldn't do.

"Ahem." I caught their attention again. Glares – how original. "If we could get on with this, that'd be great." I smiled.

"Well we're waiting on you, now." Dean snapped. "Finish your part of the deal."

I smirked at him. Bluntness would serve me best right now – much as I usually avoided it.

"Because, my young trio of misfits," – Dean snorted – "I can do this."

A flick of my wrist, a whispered thought, and seconds later I was smirking at three shocked looks – even the angel was shocked, good on me – while a flicker of a flame danced in my palm.

Damn straight.

No one spoke. The crackling of the fire in my hand, accompanied by the whirling symphony of wind outside created the only sound. Everyone was, as far as I could see, shell-shocked.

That was great and all, and yeah it gave me an ego boost, but I had places to be.

"Silence is a painting I'd prefer not to admire, boys." I raised my eyebrows. "So have I got any questions?"

"How are you doing that?" Sam breathed. Another swirl of my wrist, and the flame shot out in a flash of light in his direction, making him jump back – and me to pout as it evaporated harmlessly against the edge of the Devil's Trap.

Oh well.

"That's really none of your business, my young padawan."

Dean's jaw dropped even further. "You've seen Star Wars?"

I put on my best 'duh' face. "You haven't?"

"Where did you learn to do this?" Castiel interrupted, still staring at the flickering flame in my palm. I shrugged in reply.

"Nowhere. I was born with it; it's not like bloody Maybelline. Now come on, we had a deal. Let me out."

Sam's brow was furrowed, and I could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

"You can't attack us outside of the Devil's Trap?"

_'That's not sounding good.'_

"Obviously." I drawled. "Now let me out."

"Why should we?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

I resisted the urge to snarl. "What's the world coming to when you can't trust the word of a Winchester? Where has all the honour gone? I swear we had piles of it in the 19th century. Now let. Me. Out."

Castiel raised his head slightly, his eyes unreadable.

"You are a demon. You have no sense of honour."

"Just cause it's not the same as yours doesn't make it any less, angel. Do I have to say it again?"

"Actually," Dean turned away from me. "I'm all for just leaving you here."

I couldn't hold back the snarl this time. "You don't want me as an enemy, Winchester."

"Well we're not having you as a friend." Sam pointed out.

"Why not?" What the hell. Desperate measures, right? "You don't want the Apocalypse; I don't want the Apocalypse... See where I'm going with this?"

"You'd go back on your word as soon as we let you out!" Sam rolled his eyes. "We're not stupid."

_'Could've fooled me.'_

"I'm not suggesting we work together or anything." I glared. Crap, I'm turning into one of them. "Just that I stay out of your way, you stay out of mine. Everyone wins."

"And we let you keep murdering innocents?" Dean snorted. "Not gonna happen."

"Well pretty-boy, it's the only offer of friendship you're gonna get." I growled.

"Why shouldn't we just send your ass back to Hell?"

"Cause when I get out, I will spill the blood of everyone you care about. Starting, I think..." I swiveled to the younger Winchester. "With him."

Dean snarled and took a threatening step forward.

"Don't you _dare_."

I quirked an eyebrow and put on my most patronising tone. "Oh, did I strike a nerve? Does pretty-boy Winchester want to protect his baby brother, just like he never could before?"

Dean looked about to jump into the Devil's Trap and throttle me – well, try to anyway – but Castiel spoke.

"I could smite you."

That... Was a tiny, very annoying flaw in my brilliant plan.

I turned to him this time. "Come on. Castiel. I was going to help your charge. Back in Hell. You saw me there, I know you did."

The angel was silent, but the Winchesters turned to him, startled.

"Cas?" Dean asked. "'This true?"

"Yes." Castiel said reluctantly. "But that does not mean I will hesitate to kill you."

"Oh, because a 'thank you' would have been too much to ask for, of course." I said sarcastically, before I leaned forward, a twisted grin on my lips and a menacing anger in my eyes. "As soon as I saw your little Winchester, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. His soul was so pure, you know. So untainted." My grin widened. "I wanted to rip him limb from limb, and make him scream for mercy. I wanted to break him in every way possible. I wanted to make him _mine._ And when I was done, he would've been begging for more. I would've made him _worship_ me. And then I'd do it all over again."

Furious blue eyes and a fierce growl were the last things I remembered before I passed out.

When I woke, I _expected_ to be in Hell. Well, if I was lucky anyway. I was leaning more towards not waking up at all. But no, I hadn't moved. I was still in the same dirty abandoned warehouse, on the same hard concrete floor, inside the same irritating Devil's Trap. Only one thing had changed: I was alone.

The bloody _bastards_ had left me there.

_'Bloody bollocks.'_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three :) Not as long as the others, sorry, but it was necessary. Enjoy!**

* * *

It took not one, not two, but _three_ hours for me to escape from the blasted Devil's Trap. Above me was a column of rusting steel that I slowly managed to wear down until it broke, and crashed into my prison. After that, it was a simple matter of scratching a break in the Trap, and I was free.

I was sorely tempted to immediately go after the _bloody, stupid, bastard_ brothers, but I restrained myself with a deep breath and several moments of silence. Instead, I decided to head to the tomb of a good friend – well, one who I'd _thought_ was my friend. With a blink, I winked out of the warehouse, and reappeared to a quiet, half-broken tomb. Looking around, I called out in a sickly sweet sing-song, "Oh, Maxie!"

Silence.

I called out again. "I just want to talk, Maxie." A tiny whimper broke the following quiet, and I let a satisfied smirk spread across my lips.

In a flash, my hand was around his throat, and Maxwell Lattenburgh was begging for his life through parched, bitten lips.

"Please, please, Alianne, please I didn't- I swear, I didn't see, I _swear_-"

"Shut up." I snapped harshly. He obeyed immediately, and I put a cruel smile on my face.

"I think we need to talk, Maxie, don't you agree?"

Max swallowed, his throat bobbing under my fingers. I tightened them, and he nodded quickly. "Yes, yes Alianne, of course, whatever you say."

I smirked. "Obviously. Now, do you know what happened to me back there, Maxie?" Max whimpered again, but managed a faint, "Yes."

"Hmm. And did you know what would happen, _before_ I left here last time?"

He shook his head quickly. "No, no I would have told you otherwise, I swear, please-"

"Shut up after you answer the question, Maxie." I cut across him smoothly. "Now, if you're telling the truth... Then _why_ didn't you see it?"

"I don't, I don't know, I don't-"

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow. I leaned forward, making sure to blow hot air over his face as I moved my lips right next to his ear. "If you're lying to me, I _will_ find out, Maxie. And I will make sure you feel _every second_ of your death, have you got that?"

Max was trembling, whimpers escaping his mouth every few seconds, but he nodded shakily.

"Good." I moved back, releasing my hand from his throat. "Now, back to business. Is there anything I should know in the soon-ish future, or will I have to face it blind again?"

Half an hour later, I blinked out of Max's tomb and dropped onto the couch in a little flat in New York. I had bought the place – yes, bought, not killed-the-previous-owner-and-scared-everyone-else -into-obedience – several years ago, and it was the closest to a home I ever really got. There was nothing on the shelves, nothing anywhere really. Just expensive furniture, a flat-screen TV, and a large stereo sound system. And of course, as many types of wards as were known at this current time. No sentimentality – it wasn't my thing. Actually, as far as I knew, it wasn't any demon's thing.

Relaxing into the suede leather of my couch, I thought back on Max.

To be honest, I did believe him when he said he hadn't seen my... Incident. So the only question now, was why?

Max was no prophet – I would have had an archangel blasting me out of existence ages ago if he was – but he was a very specific sort of witch, with a very specific sort of skill set. I didn't know of any others like him, and I had scoured Earth several times looking. He was from a very old family, and – fortunately for me, because powerful witches could be a bitch to deal with – seeing the future was his only skill. I had come across him about ten years ago; It was pretty easy to scare, seduce, (and ultimately, confuse) him into helping me. Now, he was the only person I actually had regular dealings with.

Not that we were friends. I didn't have friends, and Max was a bloody borderline hermit – why else would he live in the tomb of his forefathers? Still, I suppose I'd feel slightly sad if he died, but the only thing I'd miss about him would be his abilities.

I felt no guilt at my thoughts (I didn't expect any – demon, duh) and so it was with a light heart and a peace of mind that I let myself drift slowly into slumber.


	4. Chapter 4

**And here we have chapter four, guys! Thank you so much to all who reviewed, followed, favourited, etc, here is your reward, you guys are amazing! Unfortunately, this one is mostly following dialogue from the show (sorry!) but we get more original stuff next chapter, I promise. Also, I figured out when it's set, and this chapter marks the beginning of season 4, episode 18, 'The Monster at the End of This Book'. It will deviate a little from the canon plot later on, I warn you, but for now we're sticking to the book (Well, show). Sorry for the long A/N, please review, and enjoy!**

* * *

Several weeks later I found the book.

The book oh-so-creatively titled, _'Supernatural'_.

Like, wow. I can see how much thought went into _that_ name.

I was inside a little store, in a little town, innocently wandering (by which I mean setting the occasional car on fire, pushing a pram just that little bit more away from a distracted mother, etcetera, etcetera) when I saw it. The Winchester brother's lives, pulped and printed and bound.

It was _hilarious_.

The name on the cover was Carver Edlund, but with a little questioning (ahem, threatening, ahem) I found out it was a pseudonym for the name Chuck Shurley.

Yeah, the guy was right not to use that.

Anyway, it didn't take a genius to figure out that this guy was either a), a friend of the Winchester's and going behind their backs to write these books, b), a witch like Max that I had somehow not found or c), a prophet.

I dismissed 'a' almost immediately. The Winchester's didn't strike me as ones to tell their entire life story to some guy.

'B' was a possibility. However, it seemed unlikely that I wouldn't have found them before now.

So 'c', then. A prophet. And unfortunately, when you get a prophet, it's sort of a package deal to get the archangel too.

That would be a problem.

Still, after I had the name, the address wasn't a problem, and so it was bare minutes later that I zapped into existence a block away from the prophet's house. I would walk the rest of the way.

_'See, archangel? I'm not trying to hurt your precious prophet. Aren't I nice, not just popping into his house? I am, right? Please don't kill me.'_

Chuck Shurley's house was... Well, 'shabby' would be an understatement. After a quick knock on the door, I realised the prophet himself wasn't much better.

He wore a tatty striped dressing gown with what I guess was his pyjamas underneath, his chin was unshaven, and he looked like he hadn't been out of the house in several years.

_'Max might have liked this guy.'_

As soon as Chuck caught sight of me however, his face whitened and he leant back from the door.

"Uh, um, how did you get this address?" He stuttered. I fought the urge to roll my eyes and smiled pleasantly at him instead.

"Hey Chuck. I just want to talk with you, if that's alright."

The writer was about to reply when a familiar engine noise caught my attention. I sighed, and as the black impala pulled up behind me I heard Chuck whisper a quick, "Oh God, no."

_'You and me both, kid.'_

I swivelled on my heel to see Dean and Sam get out of the car quickly, confusion on their faces as they saw me. Sam looked about to speak to me, but Dean just shouldered on past and turned to speak to the prophet.

"You Chuck Shurley?" He asked bluntly.

"The Chuck Shurley who wrote the Supernatural books?" Sam elaborated.

I rolled my eyes. Way to make the one protected by an _archangel_ like you.

"Maybe. Why?" The prophet looked nervous. To be honest, I didn't blame him. The guy had probably seen this happening and now he had to live it. Damn.

"I'm Dean. This is Sam. The Dean and Sam you've been writing about."

Chuck closed the door quickly, and I sighed, before reaching forward and simply pushing it open. I gestured for the Winchester's to go first with a wave of my hand, getting only glares in return – though they both stepped inside. I waited just outside the doorway, leaning against the wall and using my inhuman hearing to find out what was happening.

"Look, uh..." Chuck stuttered. "I appreciate your enthusiasm. I really do. It's, uh, it's always nice to hear from the fans. But, uh, for your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life."

"See, here's the thing." I heard Dean continue conversationally. "We have a life. You've been using it to write your books."

I furrowed my brow in confusion. Seriously? Did they even realise they were talking to a prophet?

I heard Chuck back up further into the house and Dean followed.

"Now, wait a minute. Now, this isn't funny."

"Damn straight it's not funny." Dean nearly snarled.

"Look, we just want to know how you're doing it." Sam said calmly.

"I'm not doing anything!" Chuck protested.

"Are you a hunter?" The elder Winchester asked.

"What?" Chuck sounded confused. "No, I'm a writer."

I snorted. The drivel that was the Supernatural books could hardly be written by a proper writer.

"Then how do you know so much about demons?" I heard Chuck fall onto something – a couch? – And assumed Dean had pushed him there. "And Tulpa's, and changelings?"

"Is this some kind of 'Misery' thing?" Chuck asked, seeming almost desperate now. "Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a 'Misery' thing!"

_'What the Hell is a 'Misery' thing?'_

"No, it's not a 'Misery' thing. Trust me, we are not fans!" I could practically feel Dean's angriness, even from outside the house.

"Well then, what do you want?" Panic coloured the prophet's voice.

_'Back off boys, we don't want Heaven's wrath now do we?'_

"I'm Sam. That's Dean."

_'Well at least Sam knows how to use an inside voice.'_

"Sam and Dean are fictional characters! I made them up, they're not real!" Chuck protested.

"What about me?" I called. Silence. "Have you seen me? Alianne, by the way. These guys didn't really give me a chance to introduce myself."

"Alianne..." I heard Chuck whisper. "But, I haven't written her yet!"

I sighed. "Give it up, Chuck, I know what you are."

"What?" His voice wavered. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Do you really not know?" My brow furrowed. Surely he knew?

"What are you talking about?" Dean interrupted. I rolled my eyes.

"Interrupting people is rude, Dean."

"When I want to interrupt an actual _person_, I'll remember that."

"Again with the insults?" I sighed, exasperated.

I could practically hear Dean rolling his eyes.

"Fine." I relented. "You two can deal with this guy. Have fun working out what he is without me." And with that, I was gone.


End file.
